The Branching Path
by Tsume12
Summary: A few different words can change the course of fate. Arthur convinces his father to let him go for the antidote in 'The Poisoned Chalice'
1. Prelude

_I know I haven't updated anything in a while. I just… haven't had the heart to write. Now, I'm trying to get back into it a bit before braving updating anything I have already posted. If anyone follows something else I'm writing, feel free to point me in the direction of some good reading for those fandoms. Helps me get back in the mood for the individual stories._

_Anyway, trying my hand at a 'what-if' style Merlin story, initially based on Season 1, Episode 4, 'The Poisoned Chalice'._

_Some content taken from the episode. No copyright infringement intended._

_**Prelude:**_

"I will not stand by and do nothing while Merlin _dies!_"

"What is the point of having a taster if you're going to get yourself killed anyway?" Uther demanded.

Arthur seethed, struggling to keep from shouting, but his voice nevertheless came out in a enraged hiss, "He is not my _taster!_ He was not paid to take a _risk!_ He is not even from within the borders of this kingdom! It is not his _duty_ to die for me!" Arthur took a harsh breath, forcing himself to modulate his tone. "He knew, father—he _knew_ that cup was poisoned and he drank anyway. It was not some abstract risk. He willfully chose to drink so that I would not! He is not even among our subjects—I _cannot_ watch _my friend_ die like this!"

Uther had a sudden memory of his own youth, of a knight-friend who fought and died for him, and suddenly he understood. Arthur had always been forced to be the Prince, above all others. This—this peasant-boy who had walked into Camelot to learn medicine from Giaus (presumably before returning to his home village in another kingdom) had done what no one else had.

The boy challenged Arthur at every turn, showed none of the deference of the other servants, and had—more than once, now—saved his son's life.

Now it made more sense. The boy was not of the Kingdom of Camelot. He held no duty to the crown, not even in the abstract sense that the Kingdom's subjects did. What he had done had been for _Arthur._ In friendship, not duty.

And it was quite clear that Arthur was not going to let this go. He relented enough to stop walking and look at his son, only to see the distress in blue eyes. "Like what, exactly?"

Arthur closed his eyes, "Giaus says it will be slow and painful. He may linger for as long as five days."

And what, Uther wondered, would he have done if it had been his only friend suffering so? Or worse—his son?

"Take two of the knights with you. Take no unnecessary risks, and report to me as soon as you get the flower to Giaus."

The sudden, heartfelt gratitude that flashed across his son's face was intense and unmistakable. "Thank you, father."

Arthur bowed and turned down a side hall, starting to run within three paces.

_xxxx_


	2. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

"Ah, you are… Guinevere? Morgana's serving girl?"

Guinevere almost dropped the bucket of water she had retrieved for Giaus upon hearing the King's voice. Instead, she turned and started to drop into a curtsy, surprised when Uther waved off the formality.

"I do not wish you to spill that," Uther's tone was amused.

"Sire?"

"Morgana has you aiding Giaus in tending to Arthur's manservant, yes?"

"Yes, sire," Guinevere nodded, eyes cast down.

"I wish to hear how he is fairing."

Gwen couldn't stop her shoulders from slumping, "Not well, sire. Giaus… he suspects magic may have been used to increase the poison's potency. He didn't want to tell you until he was certain, but Merlin… he's getting worse far too quickly." She chanced a quick glance at the King's expression, surprised to see a pensive frown.

"I see. If Gaius needs anything that can be provided by the castle staff, I will see to it that they know to aid him. I owe this boy Arthur's life twice over."

Gwen flashed the a look of gratitude only slightly less intense than had been on Arthur's face not three hours before, and Uther wondered why the boy inspired such feelings from those who had known him for only a few weeks.

"Thank you, sire," Gwen almost curtsied again, the bucket sloshing dangerously before Uther's hand steadied it.

"Get back to Giaus, girl. Arthur would be most upset if he returned to find his efforts in vain."

"Yes, sire," a bobbed head and the girl turned back to the stairs leading towards the physician's quarters.

Uther watched her go, deeply troubled.

_xxxx_

The next evening, Giaus sighed as he wrung out a wet cloth and gently put it back on his ward's forehead, barely glancing up as Guinevere entered the room and placed another new bucket of water on the table. "Giaus?"

"The poison has already entered the final stage," Giaus said heavily. "It should have taken at least another day for the rashes to appear… if Arthur does not return tomorrow, I fear it will be too late."

For several long moments, Merlin's labored breathing was the only sound in the room.

"Does that mean magic truly was used in making this poison?"

The old physician's shoulders slumped, "There could be nothing else that would cause this," he admitted.

"Then Arthur is riding into a trap," Uther's voice caused both serving girl and old man to jump, and Giaus' expression went from surprised to horrified in a breath.

"… I fear you are right, sire," Giaus breathed. "But he will already have reached the forest."

Just then, Merlin began to struggle weakly in his half-conscious fever dreams.

"Merlin?" Giaus twisted back to his patient and Uther turned to give a hasty order to the knight standing in the hall behind him.

The King was fully intending to go and meet with the council, to inform his advisors of the fact that a sorcerer had made an attempt—apparently a double-attempt (he could only pray that the trap did not succeed)—on his son's life when a breathy moan caught his attention.

"Ar… Arthur… no, no… trap…"

Uther hesitated only a moment longer, struck silent at this boy's sheer _loyalty_ to his son. Here, on what could very well be his deathbed, obviously in agony and not even _conscious_, the manservant feared more for Arthur's safety than anything else.

He strode out of the room sharply, calling to a passing guard. "Send riders with spare horses after my son!" It was too late to protect Arthur from the trap, but Sir Leon and Sir Gavin would protect him with their lives.

However, he would never be able to replace the boy's loyalty to Arthur, and spare horses would speed his son's return, thus increasing the boy's chances to live. And apparently, by extension, his son's.

_xxxx_

Arthur and the two knights reached the forest at a quick canter as the evening after their departure from Camelot came to a close.

They slowed their mounts to jogging trots, then again to walks as the animal's sides heaved with exertion.

Sir Gavin's mount skittered sideways a few steps, Leon's horse tossing its head and nickering with wide eyes as Arthur's mount pinned its ears and snorted.

Not two minutes after the knights tied the horses outside the entrance to the caves they had the dubious pleasure of meeting the forest's cockatrice.

Between the three, they made quick work of the semi-magical creature only for rustling in the brush off to the side to draw their attention to a young woman, scratched and wearing a dress that was the mark of a noble's servant, though it was torn mostly to shreds.

A hurried conversation and the three knights followed the young woman into the caves.

"I don't trust her, sire," Sir Leon murmured to Arthur, just out of the woman's hearing range.

Arthur closed his eyes briefly, "Nor do I. Her presence is far too convenient. However, we have no way of finding our way through this underground maze alone and time is not on our side."

The woman was true to her word up until showing the group where the flower was. A brief argument later and Arthur (the lightest of the group) was the one to move forward to reach for it, a rock outcropping the only thing between him and a long, dark drop.

And that was when everything went mad.

_xxxx_

A flare of power rushed from the woman—the _sorceress_—sent Prince Arthur stumbling forward, unable to catch himself. Instead he lunged for the cliff-face opposite the cave-opening the group stood in, barely managing to catch hold of a narrow ledge with gauntleted hands.

Leon stepped towards the stone outcropping even as it cracked and fell and Gavin lunged for the sorceress.

She laughed, vanishing in a bright flash as Prince Arthur cried out, his precarious grip failing.

"Sire!" Leon knew he was too far to do anything, only able to watch helplessly as his Prince fell.

Seconds stretched out in shocked silence, a flickering torch illuminating the flower clinging to the roots of the great tree that grew above, the reason for a journey that cost the Prince's life. They could not reach the flower, now, and so doomed the boy still in Camelot to a painful death.

"Sir Leon," Sir Gavin said finally. "We must go back."

Leon closed his eyes for a long moment before nodding, casting a final glance at the flower and the dark abyss that had taken his Prince. He remembered the servant that Arthur had been trying to save, and found himself wondering if it was kinder to let death take the boy than to let him know that Arthur had died seeking a cure.

Considering the boy's strangely powerful attachment to the Prince, perhaps it was.

He turned to follow Gavin back down shadowed tunnels, moving slowly with the weight of their failure.

_xxxx_

Arthur watched in something like disbelief as the two knights suddenly acted as though the sorceress had gone and he had fallen, knowing that their inability to see or hear him had to have something to do with the bright light she had sent out. It must have been some kind of illusion.

Her parting words were scornful, sure of his death, but Arthur paid little heed as he drew his blade one-handed to swat away an approaching spider larger than any he had before seen. He didn't have the dexterity to sheath it again while hanging by one hand, so he tossed the blade up onto the ledge and dragged himself up after it, realizing fairly quickly that he would have an easier time getting out of this mess barehanded and discarding his gloves.

And the sorceress left him there, the magical lighting she had conjured vanishing with her.

Blinded by inky darkness, Arthur felt himself begin to despair.

_xxxx_


	3. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

Giaus held his vigil at Merlin's bedside, only having been able to catch a few moments of sleep at a time and too worried to eat much. As the day slid into night, Merlin's moments of semi-awareness came fewer and further between, the former delirious but audible words fading to pained murmurs during those brief bouts of wakefulness.

The old physician found himself caught between something like gratitude and grief as Merlin's aimless struggles stilled, knowing that his ward was slipping further from the pain of the poison wracking his body… and closer to death. Air rattled in the boy's chest with each breath, fluid starting to build up in his lungs. Were he aware, the slow drowning would be both agonizing and terrifying, and Giaus was grateful Merlin was spared that… but his own fear that the antidote would arrive too late grew with each passing hour.

Merlin jerked on the patient-bed, arching up briefly with a choked gasp, eyes half-open but unseeing as he tossed his head to the side as though searching for something. His voice was thick and wet, edging on a cough that wouldn't come as he began to speak.

"…dark… so dark…"

Gaius' heart clenched. If Merlin saw only darkness—even through the fever, light should register. His eyes were open. Even should he have the antidote within moments… _no_. "Fight, Merlin," he whispered, heart breaking for the boy struggling to live.

"… rthr…"

If he could cause the poison to slow, even if only a little… yet he knew he had nothing to combat the viciousness of the Morteaus flower that would not have to be brought to deadly doses. Nothing that would be certain not to interfere with the antidote if Arthur returned in time.

Merlin stirred again, restless in his fever, the pained murmur of his voice switching to a language that Gaius recognized by tone, but he couldn't make out the words. What he _could_ make out was a sudden increase in the light in the room, the brightness coming from beneath the blanket at Merlin's side.

"Merlin?" he found himself whispering, caught between awe and horror as he drew back the cover to show a swirling ball of silvery light. That Merlin even _could_ preform such a feat while _dying_ was beyond belief. That he was doing so… he was focusing energy he could scarce afford to spare into a spell that Gaius could see no reason for. "What are you _doing?_"

_xxxx_

Arthur blinked, suddenly able to see. A quick glance showed a ball of silvery slight, swirling as though made of mist, and his first response was anger and defiance.

"What are you waiting for!?"

When the light did nothing but drift higher, he hauled himself onto the next ledge, tentatively accepting the offered aid. Hopefully, whatever was causing the light was not the woman who'd left him here to die.

The light flitted higher again, drawing his attention upwards, but he caught a glimpse of the flower he had come for where light met shadow. He redirected his climb, the light shivering as it followed in fitful little jerks, clearly trying to lead him up.

He could almost hear his manservant's voice, urging him to leave the flowers behind.

"Sorry, Merlin," Arthur murmured, "I can't do that."

_xxxx_

Gaius started, moving closer to the bed when the words he heard switched to a language he understood far better than that of the Old Religion.

"No, Arthur, leave them!"

The sharp cry caused Gaius to start back, and he suddenly wondered if Merlin was _Scrying,_ without tools and only partially conscious at best. He knew it was—in theory—possible for those with the talent and experience to Scry without any of the usual tools. But while half-conscious and wracked with pain?

Surely not.

"Go," softer now, the light in Merlin's hand swirled smaller, less bright. "Follow the light."

_xxxx_

Arthur could see the light he followed flicker and shrink, but it kept with him, never too far ahead but clearly guiding. It began to move a little faster, only slowing again when he could no longer keep up. Whoever had sent it… was genuinely trying to help.

Suddenly he found his fingers touching crumbling earth and strong roots, pulling himself up into the forest from a neatly hidden crack beneath an ancient tree. The light hovered by him for a moment, wavering, and somehow that light had equated itself with Merlin in Arthur's mind.

He knew it was foolish, but he reached out and cupped the flickering, misty globe in both hands.

It was warm, gentle, _protective…_ but weakening. And so, so fragile.

"Hold on, Merlin," he murmured, whether to himself or the light that flickered and faded he didn't know. "I'm coming."

_xxxx_

Leaving the forest was slow going, with Arthur's horse constantly stopping to look over his shoulder for his herd-leader, and neither Leon nor Gavin had the heart to try and push for speed.

There was no need, now. They had been unable to acquire the cure and Arthur was lost.

When Arthur's stallion stopped again, ears pricked as he turned his head to the side, Leon and Gavin stopped their mounts as well. To their surprise, the horse suddenly tossed his head, yanking the reins from Gavin's hand, and took off trotting.

Sound from the brush, an armored body drawing close at a light run.

From the horse's reaction… it _couldn't_ be…

And Arthur, a little worse for wear but clearly both alive and caught between triumph and worry, holding up a hand to forestall questions, barely pausing long enough to vault onto his horse's back. "I'll explain on the way. We must make haste!"

_xxxx_

Nearly a day later, Arthur and the two knights thundered into Camelot on the spare horses that had met them, the animals on the brink of exhaustion. Ordinarily, Arthur would never have treated any horse so, but better the loss of good horses than Merlin.

He dismounted before the his horse had slowed past a trot, tossing the reins to Leon, "See to it that the horses get to the stables and report to my father," he called, already running.

He barely heard the acknowledgement, halfway up the castle steps.

"Gaius!" Startled, Arthur almost ran over the old man making his way down the hall, carrying an empty bucket.

"Sire!" the hope in Gaius' voice was unmistakable, "Do you have—"

"Here," Arthur fumbled in his belt-pouch for the Morteaus, passing it over quickly. "Why aren't you with Merlin?"

"I need more water," Gaius admitted, "and I sent Gwen home an hour ago. Poor girl exhausted herself over the last few days." He didn't say that he hadn't wanted her to be there to watch Merlin die. He didn't say he could only hope the cure wasn't too late.

Arthur took the bucket, "I'll meet you in your quarters," he assured, turning to get the water himself. "Just get started on that antidote."

_xxxx_

Gaius looked around after quickly preparing the base of the antidote, listening intently for footsteps on the stairs. Hearing nothing, he quickly whispered the incantation to increase the antidote's potency to counteract the magic used to make the poison so vicious.

Not twenty seconds later, Arthur stepped into the room, carefully balancing a bucket of fresh water despite his quick pace.

Gaius grabbed a ladle and added some of the water to the sludge-thick base, making in liquid enough for Merlin to swallow, then carefully poured the mixture into a vial and made his way towards the bed, noting worriedly that Merlin's breathing was even more labored.

"Hold his nose," Gaius instructed, moving to pry open his ward's mouth.

Arthur didn't question. In the whole of the kingdom, the only one to command him was his father—but in the Court Physician's chambers, if Gaius told you to do something, you did it.

"Swallow, Merlin," Gaius murmured after pouring the greenish liquid into the manservant's mouth and pinning his jaw shut. "Swallow!"

Merlin's throat worked briefly and Gaius stepped back, gesturing for Arthur to do the same.

"Now what?" Arthur asked.

"Now we wait," Gaius replied, "Wait and hope. He is very weak."

Seconds slid by with no visible response, then a short shudder ran through Merlin's lanky frame before he went utterly still.

Arthur took a sharp step towards the bed, "Gaius, he's not breathing!"

Already the physician was moving towards his ward, kneeling down to listen to his heart for several moments.

Arthur's chest tightened as Gaius' expression… crumpled. "His heart has stopped," the old man looked every one of his years as he slowly straightened, grief and hopelessness written in every line of his body.

Arthur bowed his head, letting out a shaky breath. He found himself kneeling next to the bed, reaching out a hand to touch above Merlin's heart, whether to verify the physician's finding or contest it, he didn't know.

A second passed in stillness, then another. Arthur's eyes slid closed as of their own accord, a single tear tracing a path down his cheek.

He didn't wipe it away.

_xxxx_

_Come on, people. My writing's not that bad, is it? The only two reviews I have are from RL friends! I know I'm out of practice… so I _would_ appreciate some constructive criticism. Trying to get back into writing-mode, here! (No, that is not a threat to end the story. It will be updated regardless, though updating SPEED may be effected.)_


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